Three mackerel look back at me
Forlorn, neglected, oh-so-slightly crazed,
And petrified against all atrophy
In knifed-in oils. If those eyes could see,
They’d see their nemesis. Amazed,
Three mackerel look back at me
The way they always do. “Philosophy
Be damned,” the fishes say, forever glazed
And petrified. “Against all atrophy
You thought to catch us back to life and free
Us to an endless stream of Saturdays.”
Three mackerel look back at me
Like albatrosses. “How’s the family?”
Neglected, I admit. The bastards phrased
That perfectly. Against all atrophy
I’ve scumbled at some artist’s legacy
Of living things, and look at what I’ve raised–
Three mackerel looking back at me,
A palimpsest in crusts, a fucking trophy.
August 6, 2007 at 12:34 am |
Rick,
Is that one of your own paintings? I’ve been on the fringe of the serious side of painting for decades and I love it. It reminds me a little of the English impressionist, Matthew Smith.
Best,
Janet
August 6, 2007 at 12:40 am |
I LOVE MATTHEW SMITH! I’ll take it! Thanks Janet.
August 11, 2007 at 8:09 pm |
Philosophy be damned indeed. Haha. Reading this was a blast.